It was a gruesome sight to behold. One of their own, murdered… violently. At this time of all times. A time of laughter, of joy, of celebration. How could this have happened?
The three figures stood in silence. The eldest of the group knelt down to further survey the scene. Inquisitively stroking his snow white beard, the man removed his dust laden azure, scarlet and pearl top hat in a moment of respect.
“Oh Samuel, who could do such a thing?” An exquisite young woman asked, her hands resting over her stomach hoping it would settle, while the grisly sight caused her to clench the soft lavender dress that she wore.
“I do not know, Cassandra.” Samuel replied with a sigh. “Thomas never did anything wrong.”
“Nothin’ cept align himself with those fella’s up in Winterhaven.” The final figure, a short man with fiery red hair, spat. He dug into the pocket of his emerald green jacket and pulled out a solid gold coin, which he proceeded to flip and catch continually. “Was bound to happ’n eventually when ya deal with that lot.”
“Sheamus, surely you’re not saying that Thomas deserved this?” Cassandra asked, her expression bordered horror-struck at the potential implication.
“Not at ‘tall, love. I’m me’rely statin’ that when ya play with fi’re, won’t be long before ya find yerself burned.”
“Now Sheamus, as easy as it would be to assume this was the work of the residents of Winterhaven, we do not know who the culprit behind this is.”
Something responded in kind from the shadows. “I know…” It was a timid voice, barely above the level of a hushed whisper, but it caught everyone’s ear. They turned, and a young and nervous creature stepped forward.
“What are yer doin ‘ere, Cottontail?” Sheamus growled.
“Easy now,” Samuel said, placing a firm hand upon his shoulder, “let us see why Peter has chosen to grace us with his presence, and reach out to us at this time…”
Peter shakily stepped forward. It was clear that his nerves were causing his body to continuously shudder while in the presence of the others. “I-I found th-this… a few feet away… before you got here…” From his pocket, Peter produced a piece of green and red tinsel, its strain marks clearly showing that it had been recently used to bind someone at the wrists.
“Found my arse, you did it yeh little–” Samuel raised a hand, and Sheamus suddenly found the accusation beneath him, and resumed flipping his coin.
“I-I had o-overheard that he was planning to do something big… and that th-this was only the beginning.” Pulling a small recorder from his pocket, Peter played the tape within for them all to hear. His story, as doubtful as it could’ve been, proved to be undoubtedly true. “He plans… on coming for us all.”
“Do you understand what you are telling us, Peter? You are willing to condemn your own flesh and blood for breaking our ancient pact? You are truly willing to sentence your own sibling to the ramifications of breaking the treaty we all agreed upon so many eons ago?”
“Y-yes I d-do. H-His lust for power knows no bounds. It will not be long before I f-find myself along with the rest of you in the same predicament as our late friend Thomas.”
“Then we know what we must do then. We must carry out the consequence for breaking the pact… we must kill him.” The word ‘kill’ sent an uneasy chill throughout the group. None of them had ever had to kill someone.
“Right, so then… which o’ne of us w’ill do it?”
“There’s only one of us who has the ability to do this,” Samuel mused. “Ironically, he’s also the one who resides closest to the rim, and the lone reason why their grasp hasn’t stretched farther than the death of Turducken.”
“Who?” Cassandra inquired.
“Jack Lantern.”
Samuel Wilson had forgotten how disturbed the atmosphere of The Hallow was, even at this time when it’s residents had taken to hibernation. The night here was almost never ending, and the fog always seemed to linger with just enough viscosity that you weren’t exactly sure if what was coming into view was someone or something.
He eventually came to the crypt he was searching for, noted not only by it’s size in comparison to the others, but by the giant demonic statue that hung over the entrance. Pushing the massive door aside, Samuel descended into it’s depths. He found the space occupied by a plethora of candles, with a lone figure standing at the far end of the room, its back to the entrance. “Hello Jack.”
The creature turned in response. What the candles of the crypt did manage to illuminate, Lantern was a creature who — by all logical means — had no possibility of existing. The amount of scars, rot and decay that littered his body should’ve been enough to kill a mere mortal five times over. But then, Lantern was anything but a mere mortal.
The dark specter known as Jack Lantern stepped forward, allowing the candles to further illuminate him. Aside from his tattered boots, he wore only a dry rotted pair of pants, and a vest in similar condition; the hood of said vest was always draped over his head, his face consistently blocked by the shadows that it cast. “What is it that you seek, Samuel?” His voice had an eerie hiss and growl to it, as if it wasn’t completely solid or whole — the ghost of a voice rather than one itself.
“Thomas Turducken is dead. Murdered. We have good wherewithal that Sir Winter Solace was involved. We know that Turducken had been under the thumb of Winterhaven for a while now, and that they’ve attempted to move on your territory as well. Apparently, Thomas must’ve slipped out from the cold grasp of the Winterhaven, something which did not sit well with them in the least.”
“So what is it then that you are asking of me?”
“Sir Winter Solace is the key. Eradicate him, and the empire will fall and become a hollow, powerless shell of its former self. We want you to do the deed you’ve wanted to commit for over a millennia. We want you to infiltrate the factory within Winterhaven, and kill Sir Winter Solace.”
Raising his head, Lantern allowed the candle light to finally bathe his facial features. Only, there were none. There was simply a dirty mask, its main color of rust orange offset only by three charcoal black blotches: two where the eyes would be that formed shapes not dissimilar to that of batwings; and one below the nose, which formed a demented, ghastly grin. After hearing the request Samuel put forth, one got the feeling that the mask was reflecting the emotion of its wearer precisely…
Lantern had trudged through the massive tundra’s of Winterhaven for what seemed like ages before a dark shape finally came into view through the near-blinding snowfall. At last, he had reached his destination.
It was amazing how much it had changed though. The last time he was here, it was a quaint little shop. Now it’s appearance was more in line with that of a mass production factory. The massive smoke stacks that now jutted skyward from the buildings pumped out copious amounts of smog — the air that hung overhead had turned exceedingly dark as a result. Ironic, Lantern thought, given how much fabricated happiness the place brings to so many people.
Slipping past the sentry guards that secured the main entrance, where no doubt the automated shipping sleds were secured, Lantern managed to pick the lock of a side door and slip inside with a level of disturbance akin to that of a renegade shadow.
Inside, the true horrors of what this place had become stared Lantern in the face. A tangled mess of assembly lines criss-crossed over and under one another up to the very ceiling of the warehouse. In unison, members of the Efficient Layout Faculty went through their active duties with calculated precision. There was no room for error, not anymore. Too many orders to fill, and too little time to fill them all. Lantern wondered if they had all been turned into cyborgs, as the eerie thud that continued to echo out as they each pounded out their tasks was just a little too uniform to come from a throng of organic beings.
From his position in the shadows, Lantern saw the silhouette of his target, who observed the progress of the shipments from his elevated office window. It wasn’t a hard silhouette to miss, in fact it looked like he had managed to gain a few pounds since last year. Pathetic.
Lantern continued down the hall, facing little resistance as he went. This was most likely due to the “all-hands-on-deck” mentality that the zero hour of the holiday required. He finally came upon the door which had been marked on his schematics of the factory. Surely, this was the office of Sir Winter Solace.
He wondered what he would find behind the door. Would he be sitting at his desk, his massive gut barely contained by his red coat as he gluttonously shoved cookies and milk down his gullet, laughing heartily with his mistress at what they had allowed this place to evolve into? Or would he sit quiet and alone, his face buried in his hands, ashamed of what all of this had become at his behest?
Unwilling to guess any longer, Lantern turned the knob, and slowly pushed the door forward.
He fumbled for a light switch, and when he found it, a lone overhanging light flickered to life. The room was disgusting. Grime infected icicles hung from the edges of the ceiling, their stalagmite brethren being mounds of filth covered snow shoveled into the corners of the room. Giant patches of rust and dirt clung to the cement walls and sheet metal panels like parasites engorging themselves with every last drop their host could spare. However, inside the dank and decrepit room, Lantern found the very person he was looking for sitting directly under the lone light. It was however, not who he expected. It was not Kringle, laughing maniacally behind a desk. Rather, strapped to a multitude of tubing and tanks, the withering remains of Gennadius Grinch, Sir Winter Solace himself, sat clinging to life.
The shock Lantern’s voice claimed could not go unnoticed, “Gennadius? You are Sir Winter Solace?”
“Indeed I am,” The weakened creature gasped. Slowly, Lantern cautiously made his way towards him. “Hello old friend,” Gennadius managed through the oxygen mask that was tightly clasped over his nose and mouth. “It’s been a… long time.”
“Too long, it would seem,” Lantern gazed around at what the room contained, his mind in utter bewilderment. Amongst the plethora of medical equipment, chains bound Gennadius to the chair in which he sat. “You’re a prisoner here…” Lantern muttered.
“You never were… the fastest Who in the sack race, Jack.” Gennadius attempted to chuckle, but a deep cough found its way from his throat instead.
Lantern’s eyes wandered to the blood bag attached to Gennadius, it was running low. “You need blood.”
“Heh, yes… and not just I. If only it wasn’t so hard to obtain within this place… or at this time…”
“Perhaps I can give you–“
“NO!” A violent cough tore out of his throat as his voice jumped to this response, “No. Keep your flow. There are others who need far it more than I. It won’t be much longer for me now.” For the first time in what could be considered multiple millennia, Lantern’s body language did not exude the same demented, blithesome bliss that his mask would lead you to believe.
“I know… I know why you’re here… and I-I must say… I’m so happy…”
Lantern sighed, “I didn’t want it to come to this.”
“Neither did I… but it seems out of our control now. We know it is what must be done.” Gennadius took a long, labored breath as he contemplated what had transpired over his years. “Oh Jack, how far things have fallen. I thought that sharing my story… would help them remember what all of this was about. Alas, they heard my story of morality… and they turned it into a farce, a mere holiday novelty like the cookies they consume and the stockings they hang. They… they think about the message for all of five minutes after it ends, and then… they… proceed to want more from this place. The avarice… it never ends.” Gennadius channeled what little strength his body still contained and placed a hand upon Lantern’s decayed arm, “I’m tired of this place, Jack. I’m tired of watching my hope for them sink lower and lower. I just want to be free. Set me free, Jack… I beg you… set me free.”
The steady ringing tone that the EKG machine within the room emitted felt like it carried the decibel level of an air raid siren to Lantern. He was gone, and there was no bringing him back. It was only a matter of time now, without Gennadius it would all eventually crumble. It would be like watching the city of Babylon collapse in on itself like a neutron star. After what he had found here, Lantern just hoped that when it happened, he had a prime seat.
Rising to his feet, Lantern pulled himself away from his friend’s corpse and drudged towards the door. He placed his hand upon the light switch, before a feeling within caused him to freeze. For a second, Lantern wondered if he had done the right thing; if killing him was really the way things had to go. However, he quickly came to his senses when he remembered that what Gennadius had said rang true, with far more truth than the brass bells that currently rung throughout the factory signaling another shipment’s completion. The crime committed tonight was one that the world had committed long ago. All Jack Lantern had done, was simply taken the fall…